The First Time
by Vena Grey
Summary: If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then jealousy is the cruelest teacher of all.


**The First Time**  
_A Vampire Diaries fiction by Vena Grey_

Disclaimer: disclaiming.

Inspired by the Season One finale. Damon's always been my favourite Salvatore, and Ian Somerhalder is basically the reason I watch the show. I've never read the books, so this is based on the television show—haters, please, go away. I really don't want to hear it.

Those who are more open-minded, though, enjoy. I hope at least some of the VD fanbase is open-minded, because that would really make my day.

* * *

_The first time I couldn't get enough._

_

* * *

_

The first time he saw her, he was stricken dumb by her resemblance to another.

The hunt for his other was maddening, possessive, _all-consuming_ like a fire he couldn't put out. It burned everything in its path and—it's said that absence makes the heart grow fonder—in her absence, he thought about what could have been, the what-if-things-had-gone-differently. If he'd caught on sooner to his brother's matching love for her. If he'd realized she favoured his brother instead of him, like they all did.

Birthright, it seemed, meant nothing.

In her absence, he thought about what it would have been like had she not been taken away from him. And in the time elapsing the distance between them, he let himself believe that she was the best of all possible worlds, that nothing better existed than her because she was the one who had made him. He would have followed her to the ends of the earth, to hell and back, to the farthest reaches of the universe, if only she'd have him.

And then he woke up.

* * *

Sometimes, things don't go according to plan.

The plan he'd devised long, long ago, had been to track her, to make her realize that she wanted him as much as he needed her. And so, all the space in his heart was taken up, and her space began to grow bigger and bigger, until it seeped into every last crack and engulfed anything and everything in its path. He had no room in his heart for anything else—not family, not friends, not anything—and so he became cold, his full heart left to starve for want of attention and nourishment.

And then, he saw her.

Or so he thought.

* * *

It took only seconds to process that this ghost of his past, this incarnation of everything that was important to him, was not in fact what he believed her to be. Something was different. His had less of a heart than he, and this one exuded compassion and understanding from every orifice in her body. Though the likeness was unmistakable, he could see that they were two sides of the same coin, the original darkness, this new one the light that his darkness was powerless to resist.

But the one thing she did have in common with the original was her preference for his brother.

She spun her long hair around her finger and smiled. When he realized who she was smiling at, his cold heart became a bit colder, and history repeated itself.

* * *

His brother had everything he'd wanted. His brother—the younger, second to him in more ways than his birthright—had, unfairly, unjustly, managed to make off with everything that was rightfully his.

But the worst part was that he didn't even have to try. It just came naturally, as easily as breathing, but what it actually _was_ he didn't know. It couldn't be charisma; that was his own strong suit. Couldn't be intelligence, either, as that had always been his, as well. Wit, he owned more than his younger brother could ever hope for. Charm—well, that was up to the beholder, he supposed.

But the fact remained; there was nothing he could think of that he didn't have as much of or more than his brother. And she, like all the others, turned to him instead.

* * *

She'd rejected him outright. She'd proclaimed it in the streets, claimed he was a monster who cared only for his selfish, empty games. That time, it had brushed right off his frozen heart, left behind in his footsteps as he ran, and he let her run to his brother. His brother could have her, he didn't need her.

After all, she wasn't the only beautiful girl in the city limits. He busied himself with others and it came more naturally than ever.

* * *

Her friends, her connections, even people she didn't know apart from their faces all became his distractions. They flocked to him—he was beautiful, mysterious, magnetic. Their fantasy, their perfection. No one was any better for him than the next, though. All were vapid, droll substitutes.

Not enough.

So he hunted, amused himself with games. When that proved lifeless, he turned to quests. And eventually, he found he and his brother were after the very same things, and his world turned upside down.

* * *

When she was in trouble, in danger, or in need—when his brother wasn't there for her—he filled in. It wasn't enough, but he wasn't stupid enough to outright take what wasn't his, and the ice around his heart began to thaw.

* * *

Day in and day out, he watched them together. Sometimes they weren't together, but each party's love for the other was written all over them. They exuded the other and the air around them would have been stifling had he a need to breathe.

His resentment for his brother, for, yet again, taking what _should_ have been his—since fair is fair, after all—didn't quell in the slightest, and the fact his brother carried her with him, in his clothes, his hair, his skin, didn't assist matters any. But though he remained cold toward his brother, the ice around his heart continued to thaw.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop it, for her warmth was too irresistible to a frostbite-gripped heart.

* * *

She was warm—not like the sun, for the sun, were it not for the protection allotted by his ring, was deadly, which she was not, but rather like a fire on a cold winter night.

* * *

Time passed and all the clues he gathered continued to point closer and closer to nowhere.

Some leads became ends, some were cut short. Some were productive and some were wastes of his time, field trips to distract him from everything that wasn't right.

One after another threatened to kill her, everyone from strangers to teachers to her best friend to her very own mother. Some didn't threaten her outright, for most had the good sense not to, but those who dared, he found himself wanting to tear limb from limb.

She wasn't their prey. She hadn't done anything to them, she didn't deserve it.

* * *

He distracted himself from these consuming thoughts with thoughts of his former—clues that supposedly fit together and would result in his finding what he was supposed to want.

If he still wanted her, then the universe fit together the way it was supposed to.

But the more he learned about what had become of his former, the more he realized how ugly she truly was.

* * *

His former was beautiful on the outside—just like _her_, his brother's, _his—_almost eerily so. But where his current was warm, his former was cold. Where one was loving, the other was manipulative. His former was a genius—she'd had five centuries to become that way, after all—but she used what she had for herself, for the benefit and betterment of none, which made her ugly. His current was a genius, too, but in matters of the heart, and those were more important anyway.

He had been like his former, once. Once, not long ago. But everything was different now.

* * *

There was no way to trick her into being his, for the game wasn't simply about the chase anymore; the chase had grown long and he'd reached mile twenty-three. He was tired. So he completely re-structured his world.

What was important became unimportant, and what was right became him.

* * *

There was no way to trick her into being his, so he re-wound all his old habits. He gave up on everything that had been important yesterday in favour of everything that would be important tomorrow. His brother had had his chance, and as he was beginning to fall apart, the chance presented himself, and he walked through the door.

The first time he saw her, he realized that another had only ever existed to lead him to her.

* * *

_There's a first time with me every day._

* * *

_Hahah, that was fun. I've always wanted to do a nameless narrative. _

_"The First Time" comes from a Family Force 5 song (from which I stole a few lines) of the same name. If you want to have a listen, make sure you enter "The First Time (Matt Thiessen Remix)" in whatever search engine you use. The remix is miles better than the original song, take my word for it._

_The subject of this piece should be obvious, but in case you somehow missed it, it's Damon. Damon is fascinating to me—like I said earlier, I've never read the books, so my portrayal of him is entirely based on the television show (once again, haters, go away), but he just has so much more depth to his character than Stephen. I'm a sucker for the bad boys, though. That might get me in trouble someday._

_Anyway. I love Damon. This is a one-shot, though, and I intended for it to be open-ended, so don't ask for any more._

_(I'm not even supposed to be back, given that I said I was done with fanfiction, wink wink.) _

_Arrivederci._

_-Vena_


End file.
